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Given Page 19


  Mainard stayed quiet for a long time, his wrinkled brow more wrinkled than usual. “What is the nature of this illness?” he said finally. Yenni explained her father’s symptoms—the way his muscles would suddenly give out and his constant pain.

  “I confess, I am not a healing professional but yes, that does sound like the wither-rot.”

  “What can you tell me about this disease, Professor? Please, anything you know will help.”

  Mainard clucked his tongue. “I can appreciate how difficult this must be for you. After all, the medicine of the Islands is not quite up to the task of such a debilitating disease, hmm?”

  “This is a sickness we have never seen before. Our healers are doing their best,” said Yenni, sharper than perhaps was wise. She bit back her retort that Creshen healers seemed to be just as clueless about the disease as anyone.

  “Yes, well, the wither-rot is just as terrible as it sounds. It involves the cannibalization of the body’s muscular system by its own magical energy system.”

  “But what causes it? Where did it come from? How can it be treated?”

  “The cause of the disease remains elusive,” he said grudgingly. “There is no consensus on where it originated, merely half-cooked theories it would be irresponsible of me to disseminate. All I will tell you for certain is that it seems to be triggered by excessive spellcraft, and further exacerbated by too much casting, and we’ve only recently been able to confirm this.”

  Yenni frowned, confused. “So this is a disease that enters the body through ach—through source energy?”

  “I have said no such thing!” Mainard blustered, suddenly and inexplicably agitated. “The only conclusive and peer-reviewed information I have given you about this disease is that spellcraft quickens the patient’s deterioration. That is all.”

  So the best treatment for the disease was to avoid pulling ach’e, but the healers back home were doing exactly the opposite, having her father draw on purification runes every day to remove the toxins from his body. She would need to write home with these new insights right away. Yenni exhaled, feeling her chest release as she expelled all the tension of the last few days.

  “I see. Thank you, Professor.”

  Professor Mainard waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt we’re dealing with the wither-rot in your case—I can’t imagine your papa has much affinity for spellcraft. But you’ve come to the right place. With a superior base of medicinal and magical knowledge to draw on, I’m sure your papa will be well in no time.”

  And just like that, she wanted to throw something at him again. Not least of all because she couldn’t argue. She had come to Cresh for a solution that hadn’t yet been found back home. Still, that pitying smile, that condescending tone, the pleasure she knew he took in helping the little Island savage save her father—it was enough to make her want to scream. But for her father, and only for her father, she hung her head to hide her disgust, knowing Professor Mainard would see in the gesture grief and gratitude.

  “I’m off,” he said. “I’ll give your account to my Head of Healers and have an official diagnosis for you as soon as possible.”

  Yenni simply nodded, unable to suspend her dignity long enough to thank him, and wondering what she had done to that trickster Father Esh to deserve this.

  Once she was cleared to leave the infirmary Yenni rushed back to her residence, took out some paper and a Creshen pencil, and immediately wrote home about what she had learned from Professor Mainard, urging her mother to write back as soon as she could.

  Such a strange disease. Whoever heard of ach’e, the divine energy of the Sha, causing sickness? But perhaps that was why they hadn’t been able to find a cure. The idea that ach’e might be the source, well, it was beyond belief to her, and it would certainly be the same for the healers back home. Still, she would send her letter. The rest would fall to her mother, her older brother, and her charming, charming sisters. It would be up to them not only to bring the concept to the attention of the healers, but to convince them the cure had been their idea to begin with.

  Weysh would be back soon to see how her demonstration had gone. She could get him to fly her into the city, where she could send the letter by what the Creshens called express post. According to Professor Rosé, some young dragons like Weysh flew mail and packages back and forth between Cresh and the Northern Sha Islands, the ones Cresh had claimed as colonies. From there her letter would be ferried to her home by ship.

  She bit the edge of her lip. Even express post would take about ten days, and it would cost—Mothers and Fathers! She had no money!

  Yenni groaned and rubbed her temples. One thing after another after another.

  Maybe Dragon could fly her home. Would that anger the Sha? Ah, but Dragon was not a ship. He couldn’t fly nonstop straight across the ocean. He would need to stick to the coast, and rest at night. He might take just as long or longer. Besides, Mainard was still looking into the matter. What if the sickness wasn’t the wither-rot after all, but something else? She needed to remain at the academy so she could send any and all information back to her parents.

  She could sell the necklace Weysh had given her.

  No. No, she did not want to do that.

  Very well, though it shamed her, she would instead ask his help to pay her postage and she’d return the money as soon as she received her stipend from Professor Devon. She nodded to herself. Surely the Sha could take no issue with that. She would mail the letter that day, and pray with everything she had that her father held on.

  Yenni swiveled around to her writing nook and caught sight of the mess of letters and messages piled in front of her door, abandoned once she’d discovered Devon’s note. Sighing, she went over to gather them up, and froze when she noticed a roll of familiar deep-brown paper, made from the innards of the papua tree native to the Islands. A message from home? Grabbing the roll, she slipped free the fine golden thread that held it together.

  She undid the roll and frowned in confusion. Instead of the familiar field sphinx with the wings spread wide that represented her home, the corner of the page was emblazoned with the Gunzu crest: a long shield crossed by a spear.

  Bright and Sha-blessed Yenni Aja-Nifemi,

  I must confess, it is with great concern that I write to you, knowing you are so far from civilization. It pained me greatly to hear that you had departed to live among the barbarians of Cresh, to learn of their ach’e of all things. But I understand that you have been so instructed by the Sha, and one cannot question their mysterious ways. In truth, I suppose it is best to know one’s enemy, but I pray that the Sha guide you true on your Orire N’jem, and your pure spirit is not subverted by the godless ways of the Creshens. Please remember our last conversation. They are not to be trusted. Used, perhaps, but never trusted.

  I assume you have been in contact with your family, but I feel it is my duty to let you know the Yirba’s standing with the other tribes weakens along with your father’s condition. To be truthful, I was surprised to hear you had left at such a volatile time. What machinations could the Sha be up to, sending you away?

  I apologize that I am not writing to you with happier tidings. That said, I look forward to meeting with you upon your return, as there is something very important I must ask you. Something that I think will have a positive outcome for both our tribes.

  May the Mothers and Fathers smile upon you,

  Natahi N’lanla Olashawela ka Gunzu

  Yenni took the letter over to her little desk and slumped into the chair, feeling utterly drained. Everything was going wrong. Well, the Gunzu were still open to a union between their tribes, so there was that at least. However, the prospect of marriage to Natahi did not bring her the relief it should. Fears and worries continued to tumble around and around in her head, slowly driving her mad.

  She put her head in her hands. “Mothers and Fathers guide me,” she said wearily
. She would need to write back with a diplomatic response. Yenni took out another sheet of paper and simply stared. Long minutes passed and still she stared, with no idea where to start, until a sharp familiar cry invaded her mind’s haze.

  Dragon.

  She’d completely forgotten he was coming to see her. A strange, nervous energy vibrated through her limbs. Yenni rose and went to her Creshen vanity to check her hair. She’d recently taken an evening to redo her braids, and they hung in her usual neat fall just past her chin. Satisfied, she made her way down.

  Dragon stood on the path to the main gate of Riverbank Chambers, and as she approached he pulled his wings close, stuck one leg out front, and bent over it in a bow. Yenni balled her hands into fists and put them behind her back against the urge to stroke his face.

  “Hello, Dragon.”

  Quick as a blink he changed to a man and came up to her, his eyes clouded with sympathy.

  “You’ve had a rough few days, en? You smell stressed,” he said.

  Yenni crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that smell like?”

  Weysh furrowed his brow in thought. “Something like burnt bread mixed with sweat.”

  Yenni jerked back. “Are you trying to tell me I need a bath?”

  Weysh put his hands up, as if in surrender. “No, no! Not a bath, well, not unless you think it would relax you. And perhaps after . . .”—he gave her a mischievous grin—“when you’re all warm and soft, and your muscles are more pliable, I could give you a soothing back rub. I’m told I give very good back rubs.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Yenni. “And who gave you that glowing review? Carmenna?”

  He cringed and scratched the back of his head. “I suppose I walked right into that one. Erm, how did your demonstration go?”

  “Mainard has agreed to let me stay.” Yenni detailed all that had happened in the last few hours.

  “I never had a single doubt,” said Weysh, smiling fondly at her. “Still it’s lucky you were there to stop that . . . whatever it was from braining the man, en? Byen be praised.”

  “Yes,” Yenni said slowly. In truth it was quite lucky, and something about that nagged at her, but now was not the time to dwell on it. She had more pressing matters to attend to. “Listen, Weh-sheh. I need your help.”

  She explained what she needed and he readily agreed.

  “And after that I’ll take you to a good height where you can take in the city and we’ll just cruise for a bit,” he said. “That always does wonders for me. And then—oho!” He snapped his fingers. “I know just where to take you. You’ll forget all your worries when you see this place, trust me.”

  That sounded absolutely wonderful. The chance to get free, even for a little while, of the worrisome thoughts that had been plaguing her for days was a powerful temptation. And yet she had made a promise to Carmenna, and then there was the letter from Prince Natahi.

  “I’ll stay in dragon if that puts you at ease,” said Weysh. “But please let me do this for you—as a friend. I know you like flying with me, lovely. And I hate to see you upset.”

  At Yenni’s hesitation he backed up and changed again to dragon, then bent low so she could mount.

  She sighed and climbed onto his back.

  Yenni would never, ever get tired of flying. The sky was full of fat white clouds. After sending her letter Weysh and Yenni had left the academy and the city center behind, and now they flew over green fields dotted with grazing animals and divided by yellow roads. Here and there were Creshen houses of stone and brick. Yenni closed her eyes, listening to the steady song of the wind and the occasional leathery snap of Dragon’s wings. He was right; this was exactly what she needed.

  Dragon seemed to be headed for a chain of mountains in the distance. As they flew Yenni marveled at the quaint Creshen scenery below, enjoying the way the shadows lengthened as the sun began its descent. The mountains loomed bigger and bigger, until at last Dragon shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head back, and let out a quick, clipped cry, signaling a sharp ascent. Yenni gripped tighter with her thighs and wrapped her arms around the ridge of his spine.

  “Ready!” she shouted.

  Up they went, Yenni grinning with excitement and surrounded by the whoosh of Dragon’s wings. The ascents and descents were the most fun parts of flying. She pressed her face against the hump in front of her to shield herself from the wind, until finally Dragon crested the mountain. As he leveled out he gave a high, urgent screech, as if to say, Look!

  So Yenni looked.

  And gasped.

  Oh divine Mothers and Fathers!

  The mountains gave way to a plateau pool that perfectly reflected the scenery around them. The amber sunset and glowing clouds were doubled, as were the mountains, so that it felt as if they were encircled by the sky. The sheer beauty of it struck Yenni so suddenly that it drew tears from her eyes. Dragon wiggled his shoulders and made a low, clicking noise, and it took Yenni’s awestruck mind a moment to register that he wanted to descend.

  “Oh! Yes, I’m holding on,” she called. To Yenni’s shock he headed straight for the pool, but before she could protest, he landed so smoothly she barely felt it, and Yenni realized that while it looked like they were walking on water, it was as shallow as a puddle, and as reflective as a highly polished mirror. She looked down and caught Dragon’s eye in the reflection. He made a soft huffing noise that went up at the end, and she could practically hear Weysh’s voice: What do you think? It’s pretty, en?

  “Gorgeous,” she whispered.

  Dragon did not let her down, but instead took her on a slow walking tour, right across the center of the plateau. It was wonderfully empty and quiet, except for Dragon’s claws crunching on something under the water. With each passing second Yenni felt the knots within her loosen, and the anxiousness of the past week fade. Here, enclosed in the mountains, with the sun glowing gold above and below, and the rosy clouds seeming to go off into infinity, Yenni could easily pretend this was all there ever was and ever would be. Her, Dragon, and heaven.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she stroked Dragon’s neck, then she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around it as best she could in a hug. “Thank you,” she said again.

  The noise he made was soft and rumbling, with a smug contentedness that made Yenni laugh. His swaying steps soothed her and the heat of his scales warmed her, making her feel something similar to drunkenness, reckless and unguarded. After a while she looked down at their reflection. Her cheek was pressed against his neck as she leaned casually across his back. She smiled sleepily at herself. It both looked right and felt right.

  “It has been hard,” Yenni found herself murmuring to him. “Cresh is nothing like I could have predicted. I’m used to being good at things, considered competent, but here I am not. I keep making mistakes, terrible mistakes.”

  Dragon made a low groan that ended in a hissing sigh, and Yenni imagined he was trying to comfort her, telling her Everyone makes mistakes.

  “Perhaps,” she said, stroking his neck. “But I’m making mistakes I cannot afford to. I need to be here, Dragon. My father is ailing, and I came here to find a way to help him. It’s all up to me to save him.”

  Dragon grunted. That’s too much pressure.

  Yenni ran her hand lazily across the scales of his spine. “Would you not do the same?”

  Dragon didn’t answer, and after a time Yenni must have dozed, because the next thing she knew Dragon was jostling her slightly, wiggling his great bulk. He let out a soft screech, again beckoning. Look.

  The mirrored plane before them had turned from burnished gold to a diamond-dusted sky, a thousand stars surrounding them, reflected in the water. “Incredible,” she breathed. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and the sight of it, the majesty, calmed the restless anxiety within her, dissolving it like a house made of sa
nd before the ocean.

  “I want to thank you, Dragon—Weh-sheh. Face to face. Please let me down and change,” she said. But Dragon snuffled and shook his head.

  “Why not?” Yenni asked, confused. He let out a low growl that sounded to Yenni not angry, but concerned.

  “Is there something wrong with the water? Will it harm me in some way?”

  He growled again and dipped his head.

  “Oh, but what about you? Does it hurt?”

  He shook his head.

  “Good. Still, I would speak with you, as Weh-sheh. Could we not sit at the edge of the plateau over there?”

  Dragon made a series of soft clicking sounds. As you wish.

  He spread his wings with a familiar flutter and snap, and Yenni held tight in anticipation. Dragon made a soft, high screech. Ready?

  “Let’s go!” said Yenni.

  Dragon ran, splashing as he galloped across the water, then he spread his wings and took off.

  Yenni whooped as they took to the air, but the flight was only a few seconds, and then they were on the rocky sand at the edge of the mountain peak. Dragon lay flat and Yenni slid free. She sat, pulling her knees to her chest as Weysh changed and sat beside her.

  “You smell much better,” he said.

  “Quiet,” said Yenni, and she pushed him lightly by the shoulder. He laughed.

  Yenni took a deep breath of the mountain air, as if she could breathe in the beauty around her. “Thank you, Weh-sheh,” she said. “Truly. This helps.”

  “Anytime, my heart.” He gazed out at the water with a satisfied smile. “I’ll admit this is one of my best finds, but I have a lot more to show you.”

  More to show you. His words plucked a chord of guilt in her chest. She wanted him to show her more. She’d love to fly off with him to other enchanting places such as this, but she shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  “Why would you not let me down on the water?” asked Yenni, changing the subject. “Is it poisonous?”

  “Lovely, why would I bring my Given somewhere poisonous?”